


All Tied Up

by dapatty



Category: Bandom, Neon Trees
Genre: Breathplay, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:17:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, a guy just needs time in his room with a microphone cord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Tied Up

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://were-duck.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**were_duck**](http://were-duck.dreamwidth.org/) So short, I'm sorry it's short babe. You picspamed and I ended up with this. Maybe it can make you smile this week? Beta'd by [](http://s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com/profile)[**s0ckpupp3t**](http://s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com/).

It always ended up like this. All tangled in sheets and cord and aching, bound, held on the brink of coming completely undone. Tyler was sure it was something about the coolness of the wrapped cord and how it made him shiver when he first picked it up and draped it around this neck, warming slowly as he tied himself up in it.

But that’s not how it starts.

It starts with Tyler in his bedroom, rumpled and restless, like his sheets, all twisted up in them, half hard. It starts with him eyeing the pile of jumbled microphone cord in the plastic crate in the corner of his room waiting for him. With him wanting the feel of it against his skin, tight, familiar, unforgiving.

He takes off his shirt and shucks out of his boxers, smoothing down his mohawk, his toes curling on the rug in anticipation. He steps over to the crate, taking his time. It wouldn’t do to rush this. Not when he wants it so badly. It’s always better if he can wait, if he can make it last.

Reaching down with both hands, he closes his fingers around the loops of cable just piled in the crate. Tyler picks it up, tossing it over the shoulder to pack it the six steps back to his bed. He crawls over the black mass of it, settling down on his knees with the wire in front of him. Finding a length of relatively untangled cord, he tucks the end in his teeth.

With the rest of the length, he methodically twines it around his neck a couple times, not tight enough for anything but a light pressure at the edge, just enough so breathing causes the cord to dig and loosen with each intake of air. Taking up some more slack, he wraps it around his cock, under his balls, the feel of the cord on his straining cock almost undoing him, but he holds off.

His wrists are next, and it’s always tricky keeping enough tightness without everything unraveling. He wraps a few loops around his hands, fingers wiggling to shimmy the cable down to his wrists. He cups his hands over his cock and then bends, tucking the end under one of his knees.

He whimpers at the tug of the cool cord against hot, sensitive skin. He’s so hard. Taking sips of air through his nose, he starts fucking his palms, thrusting into the snug confines of his hands. His moans are muffled against the cord in his mouth, as his cock starts leaking, easing the friction and taking him closer to orgasm.

The cord digs into his wrist, the skin there reddening with the friction as it forces him not to ease up. It is almost too much, something so good to pull against, his muscles tightening, tensing and relaxing against the bonds. His eyes roll back, his toes curling and he comes with a muffled groan, hot wetness against his palm sliding down to coat his balls and the cord.

He spits out the end in his mouth and the cable loosens enough so as to not suffocate himself as he faceplants on his bed, stretching his legs out and returning the blood flow to his foot that had gone numb. He hums contentedly, even with the prickling in his toes.

He’ll untie himself later. Right now he just wants to keep feeling the wire on his skin.


End file.
